


Alone

by Abissh



Category: Digimon Adventure
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abissh/pseuds/Abissh
Summary: Lately, Yamato has noticed he feels more alone than usual. It bothers him, but he has his friends, he has Tai. An incident occurs and Takeru comes to live with them. He should be happy now he's hardly ever alone. But he's feeling worse. Yamato holds on to Tai for comfort, realizing he likes the boy more than normal. Should he tell him? Risk their friendship and feel so alone again?Slow burn romance, brotherly love, self harm/depression/suicidal thoughts. Lots of angst and fluff will be included in this fic!
Relationships: Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya
Kudos: 19





	1. Clenched Fists

Chapter 1- Clenched Fists

Clenched fists, slim fingers wrapped tightly around sweaty palms. Tight…tight enough to force the blood from fingertips, rendering them pale and cold. The shaking begins, as does the uncomfortable sensation that screams to the hand to release; let go! Stop, this hurts!

When he finally came to the realization he was in pain, his hand was past the point of trembling. Slowly, uncomfortably, Yamato uncurled his fingers from the palm of his hand. He'd held the position for so long, it was awfully difficult to let it go. With clenched teeth, he flexed his fingers a few times, feeling joints slowly come back to life with little pops. Fuck, how long had he been sitting like this at his desk with his fist so tightly clenched?

Glancing over at the digital clock on his bed-side table, he furrowed his brows in confusion at the time it read. 1:09. The last time he'd been aware of the time, it had been about 10pm. He remembered turning off the television…taking a shower…putting some pajamas on…and that was it, wasn't it? Those tasks shouldn't have taken three hours.

No, something else had happened. Something had upset him.

Right, his father. Masaharu had called a little after he'd showered, giving Yamato the news he was used to hearing almost nightly now.

"I'll be home late," he said, sounding tired and annoyed. At what? Yamato wondered. His job? Not being able to see his son for the umpteenth time in a row? He wished for the second. "Or actually, I probably won't be home tomorrow at all…you know they've got me on this project and-"

Yamato had claimed it was ok and hung up the phone. Alone again. Not like he wasn't used to it by now. Well, really he wasn't. Was it normal for him to spend evenings, entire weekends alone? Yeah it was. But even he had to admit to himself he hated it. He truthfully, absolutely hated being alone. Before the events of the Digital world, Yamato didn't mind being alone so much. It gave him time to think, time to write music. Nobody around to hear him screw up the same chords over and over until he got it right.

Before the Digital world he had his little brother Takeru, who was always so excited to see him when they saw each other. He didn't get along so well with his mother, but he didn't hate her either. His father, well, he didn't used to work so much. During the time they spent in the Digital world, he had the other destined children, he had Gabumon. He had Taichi.

Now, he seemed to see less and less of his family. Takeru and mom visited less and less. Dad worked so much more, so much later. Gabumon was gone. Or rather, Yamato was gone. They'd left the Digital world and nobody could find out why the connection between the two worlds closed so suddenly as it had opened. They all thought they'd be able to go back for a visit. As the years went on, hope faded. As he entered his 14th year, Yamato began to think the whole experience was a dream. One long, wild dream.

But he still had Taichi. Idiodic, clutsy, goofy, soccer loving Taichi. Yamato had been convinced after they returned home, went back to school, that none of the other children would want to be around him anymore. Supposedly he'd earned the crest of friendship for a reason, however. All of them decided to stick around. When they entered highschool, they all worked so hard to get accepted to the same one so they could be together. Besides Mimi, who had returned to America, and the little ones, Takeru and Hikari, the digidestined were together.

Yamato liked them all, but Tai managed to retain his status as best friend all this time. As moody and standoffish as Yamato was from time to time, Tai decided he was worth it. For a while, it was enough. Now, he realized he didn't like coming home to an empty apartment. The few times he did see his father, he still felt alone. Even when hanging out with his friends, he felt alone. He couldn't put his finger on why. Why did he feel so alone, even with a room full of his fellow teens, laughing away as if there was no care in the world? Why didn't he feel like laughing too?

All of these things he thought about as he brought life back into his poor hand. Sitting back in his desk chair, he sighed and stared at the wall in front of him. Upon it was a calendar with the date starred; a little note read, "14th Birthday". Yamato had written it there, and on the calendar that hung in the kitchen. He knew his dad acknowledged it. He even mentioned something about going out for dinner to celebrate. That year, Takeru wouldn't be able to make it. Yamato wasn't mad at him. The little boy had apologized profusely and he knew Takeru wouldn't miss his birthday on his own accord. Their mom was the one who decided to take him along on a short weekend trip with her boyfriend. She probably forgot that it was her older son's birthday.

And so did his father.

What did I expect? He asked himself, a hand mindlessly trailing to the drawers of his desk, pausing at the second from the top. There was something there he desperately wanted, but desperately wanted to avoid as well.

No. He retracted his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. He wouldn't, he promised himself he wouldn't. Not again. That was the reason for the clenched fist. He thought, Maybe if I do this long enough, it'll hurt enough and I wont need that. He'd pressed his forearm against the edge of his desk as well, hoping to bruise his skin. Bruising was better than…better than…

Yamato stood from his desk and pushed the chair away, not bothering to ease it back into it's place under the desk. It was late. He needed to sleep. Tomorrow, he had school, and as much as he didn't want to go, he would. He'd have Tai at least. Luck had put them in class 2-1 together. Koshiro was there too, though it was probably more than luck that had put him there. The little genius had skipped ahead to first year of high school, despite the fact he was at least a whole year and a half younger than the others. Jou was older, in the year ahead of them, right where he needed to be. And Sora…well Sora was in another class than Yamato and Tai. Yamato didn't even have to lie to himself that he minded. He liked Sora well enough, but the way she always oogled at Tai really pissed him off for some reason.

Laying down in bed, Yamato pulled the covers over his shoulders and settled in. Tai...I'll see him tomorrow. Seeing his best friend would surely mend his wounded heart. As he closed his eyes, he envisioned himself in class, next to Tai, talking about stupid shit like they always did. The thought brought the tiniest smile to his lips, and the dark thoughts from earlier seemed to slip away along with his consciousness.

The next morning went by without incident. Yamato awoke to an empty house, not to his surprise. He didn't quite feel like eating breakfast that morning, so he'd gotten dressed, grabbed his bag, and just left. Not before taking a red pen from the counter and passive aggressively circling the date on the calendar. He was early leaving the flat today, earlier than normal. Though his normal was usually right before the bell rang, right as the bell rang, or slightly after. Late enough to annoy his teachers, but just within the 'alright, just go to your seat,' time. He wondered how early Tai usually made it to school.

Well, it wasn't this early. Yamato made it to school a whole thirty minutes early and Tai wasn't there. Koshiro was, of course, but he kind of expected that. The boy was sitting at his desk right up front with his nose buried in a book. The rest of the room was sprinkled with a few students here and there. Tai's seat was empty, and so was Yamato's seat right next to…

Wait, it wasn't empty. There was someone sitting there, in his seat. Now that he was really looking, Yamato noticed Tai's bag hanging off the hook of his desk. So he was here, but who was this sitting in his seat? He walked over and angrily gripped the handle of his bag. "Um, excuse me," he muttered, but loud enough for the punk to hear. He could see now who it was. One of the guys from Tai's soccer team. Yamato had seen him hanging around Tai before, along with the rest of the team. He wasn't even in their class, what was he doing here?

The guy looked up at him, pretty surprised to see him standing there. Neither of them had a chance to say anything else as Tai came basically bounding into the room, plopping down into his seat and turning to his teammate, not even noticing Yamato was there. "Man, I had to go real bad, anyway-" luckily it didn't take the brunette long to see his friend standing there. "Matt!" He exclaimed, jumping up, "You're here early! That's a first!" Chipper as ever, he smiled brightly when he spoke. Tai stepped forward and slapped a hand on Yamato's shoulder. "Happy Birthday!" He pulled the blonde into a tight, friendly hug. Normally, Yamato would be happy to hug his friend, but he was occupied by the student sitting in his seat.

"That's my seat," he said, not hugging Tai back, just looking over the other's shoulder with daggers in his eyes.

Tai released him and looked back. "It's just Hiroki," he said with a laugh. "You're not usually this early so he just comes by to chat before school starts."

So he's there every morning? Sitting in his seat, talking to Tai like he was his best friend? "Ah," Yamato mumbled. What was he so jealous about? It wasn't like the guy was pushing him out of his seat, he was just there for now.

Awkwardly, Hiroki stood and grabbed the phone he'd laid on the desk. "I, uh, see ya later, Tai."

Taichi didn't seem too affected by his teammate leaving. He just waved goodbye and turned his attention immediately to Yamato. He looked happy, and in turn, that made Yamato settle a bit. He sat and slid his bag onto the hook. "Hey Tai…"

Excitedly, Tai reached over and briefly touched Yamato's arm. "It's your birthday, man! How's it feel to be 14, huh?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Yamato said with a small smirk. Taichi was just over a month older than him. "I've only been 14 for like…six hours or something." Or something. He had no idea what time he was born.

Tai laughed and sat back in his seat, resting one arm over the back of the chair. "Yeah, well, you doing anything exciting?"

The anger from the previous night flashed back to Yamato for a moment, but he kept his composure. "Nah. I…I'm not doing anything. Well, dad had wanted to go out to eat but…I think he forgot."

"Really?" Tai seemed disappointed, truthfully so. "Dude, your dad has got to get his shit together. That's not cool."

"Well, its fine…"

"Yeah sure it is," Tai remarked with a scoff. A sudden smile spread across his face. "Hey! You can hang with me, then! I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something this weekend but there's no better day than your actual birthday, right?"

Yamato perked up at the thought. Tai had remembered his birthday, and even wanted to hang out with him. "Don't you have soccer practice?"

Tai pondered the question, looking as if he honestly forgot about it. "Eh, I can tell them I don't feel well. What's one practice? I'm the star player after all, who needs practice?" The brunette flexed his arm like he'd be showing off some muscles if his blazer wasn't covering them.

"You'd do that...for me?"

Probably unaware of the ongoing conversation, Koshiro had crawled out of his book and walked over. "Hey, happy birthday, Yamato," he said, "I-I got you a card." He fished into the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a little white envelope with "Yamato" scribbled on it and underlined. "Sorry its not a present, but-"

Yamato couldn't help but widen his smile and take the envelope from Koshiro's hand. "Holy shit, no its great, Koshiro, thank you." He was happy, genuinely happy. His friends hadn't forgotten. Who cared if his dad forgot? He had friends. In fact, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

"Hey I've got an idea! Why don't we all get together tonight? I'm sure everyone else would be down for it too! We'll have our own little party," Tai suggested.

"Yeah I'm…I'm free tonight," Koshiro replied bashfully.

"What do you say, Matt?" Tai asked eagerly.

Of course Yamato would agree. Anything other than going home to an empty apartment would lighten his heart so much, he wouldn't even think about the second drawer in his desk. "Yeah, I mean I'd love-"

"Ishida Yamato?" The loud, calling voice of one of the teachers entered the classroom and the few students still chatting away went silent. Everyone looked to the door to see a female teacher standing there. "Is Ishida Yamato in this class?"

Tai and Koshirou looked to Yamato questioningly. They were probably thinking What did you do? Yamato was thinking it too. "Uh yeah? That's…me." He stood awkwardly, avoiding the gazes of the rest of his classmates.

"Could you come with me?" The teach asked, firmly enough that Yamato knew he had to, but there was a hint of softness in her voice too, like she hadn't meant to interrupt all the conversations in the room.

Yamato hesitated, teetering on his heels before nodding respectfully. "Yes," he responded to her, and then to his friends, "I'll be back, probably?"

"Of course you will," Tai responded.

Yamato shrugged, unsure of what this was all about, and followed the teacher into the hallway. "Sensei?" He questioned.

"You father is on the phone for you," she responded to him, though when she looked down to him, he couldn't help but notice the glint of concern in her eye.

Dad called me? At school? What the hell? He never called the school. Even when he had a last minute, week long business trip he just left a message for Yamato at home. Could he have come home after all and seen the angry circled date and remembered his son's birthday? Even so, why would he call the school just to say 'Happy Birthday'? Yamato pondered all the way to the office, where he was met with several other teachers who turned to look at him sullenly as he entered. Nervously, Yamato took the phone handed to him by the desk clerk.

"Dad…?"

"Yamato? Oh my…son. I have…I have to…"

"Dad what's wrong?" Suddenly, Yamato didn't think this was about the date, given the desperation in his father's voice.

There was a short pause before Masaharu continued. "There was an…accident. Yamato, your mother…Takeru. Oh god, Takeru. I'm…I'm coming to get you and we'll go to the hospital together okay?"

His heart pounded so hard, Yamato could feel it in his ears. "Takeru…?"

"Give the phone back to the clerk okay? I'm…I'm on my way."

Yamato silently looked up to the concerned woman and gently handed her the phone without saying another word. He didn't know how much time passed, or even that he'd been led to a small couch and helped down. The next thing he knew, Tai was walking into the office, Yamato's bag in his hand.

"Matt?" Tai came over and stood in front of his friend. When Yamato didn't answer, didn't even look up at him, he called softer, "Yama…? What happened? Are you alright?"

Their homeroom teacher took the bag from Tai and said, "Please go back to class, Mr. Yagami. Thank you for bringing his things."

Tai let him take the bag but ignored his request. He put a hand on Yamato's shoulder, which allowed the blonde enough clarity to look up at his best friend. "Tai…" he whispered, not sure what to say. Was he okay? He didn't even know what was going on.

"Back to class, Mr. Yagami."

Tai looked to the teach and then back to Yamato. "I'll talk to you later, okay…?" He squeezed Yamato's shoulder lightly and complied, trudging out of the room looking more worried than Yamato had ever seen him before.

Yamato looked down at his lap as his friend left his sight and noticed- he'd clenched both of his fists this time.


	2. Knives

Silence. Yamato wished more than anything that his father would say something. Masaharu had come to pick his older son from school shortly after their phone conversation ended. He hardly uttered a word to the boy, just took his bag from his hands and ushered him to the car, opening the door for him, not even waiting until Yamato had his seatbelt on before pulling out of the school's parking lot. It was still morning, many people were on their way to work and even a few student straglers still dotted the sidewalks. Of course this meant traffic, and traffic meant even more time before they made it to the hospital.

"Dad…?" Yamato finally broke the silence and looked to his father who sat in the driver's seat, hands so tightly wrapped around the steering wheel they looked white. He didn't answer, just faced the road looking sullen and angry. "Dad."

No answer, still.

"Dad!" Yamato raised his voice slightly.

Again, no answer.

"Dad!" This time, Yamato reached over and touched his father's arm.

Finally, Masaharu noticed his son calling to him and startled out of his daze. "Yamato."

"What…what happened?" Yamato asked. "You said there was an accident…" What kind of accident? A car accident? What else could it be? "Were they driving? I..I know Takeru said they were going out of town."

"They came back early." Masaharu relaxed his hands on the steering wheel a bit as traffic began to ease up. "I don't…really know what happened." Looking over, he noticed the confused look on his son's face. "I really don't, Yamato, alright?"

"….alright." If his dad didn't know, he didn't know. Yamato turned his head to look out the window, rubbing a hand over his face, down to his mouth. It lingered there, covering his lips. He felt ill, very ill. Why would they come back early? Yamato knew how obsessed with her boyfriend their mother was. She'd dragged Takeru with her more than once.

They turned a corner and Yamato's stomach lurched. He managed to keep his composure…physically. His mind shot back to a few days ago, Takeru sounding so apologetic and upset over missing Yamato's birthday. That could mean…Takeru could have convinced their mom to come back early so he could…

"Oh god…" Yamato put a hand over his stomach, feeling as if he'd be sick at any moment.

To his surprise, his father noticed and put a hand on top of his hair, smoothing it down lovingly, yet firmly. "Hey, hey, we don't know what's going on yet, okay son? Let's make it to the hospital before we panic."

However unusual it was for his father to comfort him, Yamato welcomed it. He knew his father was right. He needed to stay strong right now…for Takeru. But there was a sinking feeling in his gut that all this could be his fault…

Yamato had never been in a hospital before, besides the day he was born. It felt almost like some sort of sick irony he was here again, exactly 14 years later. The hospital's emergency room was quiet, something Yamato didn't expect. All the TV shows and movies depicted emergency rooms as hectic and full of people, patients and doctors alike. But it was bare. Yamato and his father were practically the only ones there.

Masaharu strode to the check in window and spoke while Yamato hung back. The boy felt suddenly very cold in this room and wrapped his arms around his chest in a feeble attempt to warm his thin body. Soon enough, some nurses came to lead them away, but the room they were taken to wasn't warmer.

A consultation room, that was the only thing Yamato really registered as they sat on uncomfortable couches. A social worker had come in and asked if they needed anything, Masaharu declined for both of them. Yamato sat next to his father, shivering as they waited for someone who knew what was going on to come speak to them. Masaharu noticed and slipped his jacket off, resting it over Yamato's shoulders. He placed a hand on the center of the boy's back, though he needed as much assurance as his son did.

Finally, a doctor entered the room, followed by two police officers. Police…? Police didn't usually come to talk to the family after a car accident. Or did they? Yamato really had no idea. The three spoke to his father directly, practically ignoring Yamato's presence. The young boy barely processed what they said, but he managed to get a few things. "Their apartment…intruders…a knife."

"Takeru…" Yamato muttered, "Is Takeru…?"

As if the doctor only then noticed Yamato sitting there, he glanced his way and was silent for a moment. Returning his attention to Masaharu, he continued, "Your son is stable…"

"Can we see him?" Masagaru asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not, he is stable, yes, but we can't allow…"

Yamato didn't hear anything after that. Takeru was okay…that was all that mattered to him. He shut his eyes and covered his face with his hands. This was his fault…all his fault. If it wasn't his birthday…if he hadn't been born on this day, this forsaken day…

They left the hospital with barely any questions answered. The only thing Yamato knew was that his family was safe…Takeru was safe. They were in the best hands they could possibly be right now.

"…ered their house while they were away…expect them to be home?" Masaharu was speaking, and Yamato was so lost in thought he barely caught it.

"What?" Snapping back to reality, the boy had to ask his father to repeat himself.

"The intruders…they must have known your mom and Takeru wouldn't be home and didn't expect them to walk in…" His father spoke without looking at him, just concentrated on pulling into their apartment building's garage.

"Mmm…I guess so, yeah." That was what happened, wasn't it? "I'm just glad mom and Takeru are alright..."

As he turned off the car, Masaharu looked to Yamato, concerned. "Grab your bag, let's go inside, alright?"

Yamato did as he was told and took his schoolbag from the back seat.

"Alright? Lets go inside." Masaharu urged Yamato along, seemingly wanting to get inside their apartment as soon as possible.

"Dad stop pulling on my arm, you're hurting me…dad?" The door slammed behind them. What the hell? Was his dad…angry with him for some reason? "Dad? Are… you mad at me?"

Masaharu sighed and let go of Yamato. "What? No…son, no of course I'm not mad at you. Here, sit down…" He pulled out a kitchen chair and motioned for the boy to sit down.

"No…what? Why? Dad…what's wrong?" Well, it was a dumb question but his father was acting kind of weird.

"Yamato…" Giving up on the chair, Masaharu continued, "Do you understand what's happened?"

What? Why would his father ask him that? "Dad I went with you to the hospital, Mom and Takeru…"

"They were attacked."

"Yeah…but they're okay. Or…stable I guess, whatever that means…"

"Yamato…" Masaharu put a hand to his forehead, "Yamato your mother is dead." Yamato felt the breath catch in his throat. He swallowed, but still couldn't manage to take a breath. "She…didn't make it. She was gone when the police got there. They said Takeru was the one to phone the police. But he was hurt."

All at once, Yamato opened his mouth and air rushed into his lungs, causing him to gasp and fall back against the door. "He…he…he's dead..?"

"No, no no Yamato," Masaharu rushed forward and caught Yamato before he hit the floor. "No, he's okay son. Well…he's injured but the doctor is certain he's going to be okay. When he…recovers, he's going to come live with us, okay? He's okay…"

Yamato didn't know what to think. Should he be relieved? Should he be upset that his mother was dead? He didn't have a very good relationship, or really a relationship at all with her. But he didn't want her to die. He was happy Takeru was okay, but he'd be so upset to wake up and hear his beloved mother was dead.

"Hey…why don't you lie down." Masaharu helped his son to his feet.

"Takeru…takeru…tak…" All the way to his room, Yamato uttered the name of his brother over and over. "Takeru…"

He didn't remember his father helping him into bed, he didn't remember his phone ringing, and ringing, and ringing until it stopped. He didn't remember curling into a ball and trying to process whatever was flowing through his head. What he did remember was smacking his arm against his bedframe, his eyes watering at the pain, but the storm in his head fading away. He remembered wanting more. He remembered looking to his desk, to the second drawer.

Knives...knives were what killed his mother. Knives were what injured his brother. But a knife is what he most desperately craved.


	3. Scars

The first time, Yamato had been curious. He was upset, angry, furious. Why was he so mad? Now he couldn't really remember. Maybe he'd had a fight with his dad, or Taichi. Maybe he'd come home to an empty apartment and simply had enough. Maybe it was the loneliness that did him in. He couldn't remember exactly how he got to the online forum where he first got the idea. He smashed something like "I'm so fucking angry" or "I feel so fucking alone" into the search bar and it was one of the results at the very top. Other teens had claimed to do it. They claimed it helped. They explained how, advised on how to keep it a secret. At first, Yamato was appalled but then he thought…could it really help?

Fuck it. He stood from his desk and went to his closet, fishing around in some old shoeboxes where he kept junk and trinkets. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. Examining the item in his hands, he thought back to the day his Grandfather had given it to him. A Christmas present, years ago. How many? It didn't matter.

What mattered was getting this anger out of his head, getting this feeling of loneliness to go away. He sat back down and opened the item. It unfolded with ease and Yamato stared at it for a good while. Was this really going to help? It was worth a shot. Nobody would notice anyway. The teen rolled up the sleeve of his left arm and touched the object to his skin, about halfway between his elbow and wrist.

No, not here. When it was summer people would ask too many questions. Some of the others on the forum had suggested the stomach or thighs. He didn't think his hand would be steady enough for his stomach, and he remembered Jou rattling on about arteries or some shit in the legs, ones that would kill you almost instantly if cut. He couldn't remember where, so he decided it would be best to leave the legs alone. So, he slid the hoodie off over his head and tossed it to the floor. He had a t-shirt on underneath, which was good because he'd have to make sure he could still wear them without people seeing. Rolling the sleeve up over his shoulder, he picked up the object again and held it against his skin, a good few inches above where people would be able to notice. Closing his eyes, he clenched his teeth and pressed down.

Nothing happened, he wasn't pressing hard enough. Yamato held his breath and pressed a little harder, he could feel the pressure and sharpness of the blade, but it didn't hurt, not yet. Taking a bigger breath and holding that as well, Yamato slowly pressed even harder, and dragged the blade across his skin.

"Ow fuck!" After only a second, he dropped the knife. It hit the desk and fell to the floor with a small clatter. "Oh shit, ow, ow ow…" Yamato slapped his hand over the cut he'd just made and instantly thought about how he'd made a mistake. He stood and decided to go to the bathroom to inspect it. Standing in front of the mirror, he cautiously removed his hand and gasped at the trickle of blood that seeped out and dripped down his arm. "Fuck, fuck," he repeated. Was he going to need stitches?

Without thinking, he grabbed a hand towel from a nearby drawer and ran some water over it. He dabbed at the wound, feeling a bit relieved when the bleeding didn't seem to be getting any worse. In fact, the cut was just over an inch long. It didn't look like he'd need stitches. But it did hurt. That was the point, right? Yamato cleaned the cut and put a large plaster over it once the bleeding basically stopped. He put his hands on either side of the sink and looked down into it. He was seriously doubting what he'd just done, and thought I'm never doing that again.

However…it had somehow worked. His mind was off whatever had upset him, and he felt calmer. A bit, anyway.

Two months later, after he swore he wouldn't cut himself again, Yamato found himself sitting at his desk, turning the pocket knife over in his hand again and again. His mother had been murdered, and his little brother whom he loved so very much was still in the hospital. And it was all his fault, he felt.

"...my fault," he muttered as he unfolded the blade.

"Its my fault…." He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, pressed the blade flat against his skin. Takeru wouldn't forgive him…there's no way he'd forgive him.

Yamato had somehow forgotten exactly how this incident was his fault, but he knew it was his fault nonetheless. The cut he'd made to his upper arm had healed over but still was a violent looking scar. What he planned to do next probably wouldn't be as easy to hide.

"I'm so sorry Takeru…so sorry…" He turned the blade so the sharp edge of the knife was resting against the inside of his forearm. "Sorry…" Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed and dragged the blade horizontally across his arm. It hurt, it hurt so much more than it did the first time. Yamato's hand shook as he lifted the blade to inspect what he'd done. The tears in his eyes found their way down his cheeks, like the blood oozing from the cut and dripping down the side of his arm, a few drops falling onto his desk.

It hurt, but not as much as the thought of losing his brother. He felt calmer, but it wasn't enough.

Again, he set the blade to his pale skin, moving swifter this time. He made a slim slash right under the first one and dropped the knife to his desktop as his hand was shaking too badly to hold it any longer. "Ow…" he whined, putting his other hand under his arm, holding it up a bit. He just let he blood fall, didn't bother to wipe it away. The cuts weren't extremely deep. It only took a few minutes for the blood to stop flowing and begin to dry onto his arm.

By this time, Yamato was sniffling and sobbing quietly, tears flowing down his cheeks. It was at that moment he heard his phone buzzing from inside his school bag. He let it go for a few moments before leaning over and getting it with the arm that wasn't currently bloody. Taichi was calling him. Yamato had the thought to just decline the call, but he wanted to hear his friend's voice. Very, very badly.

"Tai…" he answered, the sobs still evident.

"Oh Yamato…" Tai's voice was calm, but filled with concern. "What happened? Are you okay?"

That's right, Tai wouldn't know what had happened. All he knew was that Yamato was sent home before the school day even started. He opened his mouth to speak again but all that came out was a pained sob. He couldn't speak, all he could do was set his phone on the desk and lay his forehead beside it. And cry. He cried, without saying anything else to Tai, he just cried.

And his friend listened. "Hey…Yama, I'm here," Taichi said after a moment of silence. "I'm here…whatever happened, I don't know…but I'm here." It wasn't enough. Yamato wanted Taichi there with him so he could see him…hug him. Years ago, he would never have been known as one that wanted to be held, but right now, he wanted it more than ever. His heart hurt, his arm hurt, and the only person he wanted in this moment was only a voice over the phone.

"Tai." Yamato eventually calmed down enough to speak. "My mom…she's dead."

There was a gasp on the other end of the line. Tai knew Yamato wasn't close to his mother, but it was still a shock to hear. "Holy shit," he whispered. "Takeru? What about Takeru!?" Taichi sounded almost as frantic as Yamato had felt earlier that day.

"He's okay…I guess. In the hospital still…"

"What happened?"

"….don't wanna talk about it." Not now, not at this moment. Yamato forced his eyes shut and covered them with his clean hand. He felt the sobs threatening him at the back of his throat again.

Taichi was silent for a moment. "That's okay, Yama. Its okay, don't worry about it."

But Yamato was worried about it. "I think Takeru…won't like me anymore," he choked out.

"What? What are you saying, man? That's not true. I don't know what happened, but I don't think you could do anything to make that kid hate you. He freaking adores you."

Yamato looked to his bloodied arm, just now making the realization that he'd have to hide these with long sleeves. What was he thinking? "I made a mistake, Tai."

"What do you mean?"

"I…I just…made a mistake."

Silence.

"Tai…?"

"Yamato, should I come over?" The thought of Taichi coming over to comfort him was wonderful but…he couldn't let him see him like this. Covered in tears…blood. "Do you need me?"

The last part made Yamato's lips twitch a bit, as if they wanted to form into a smile. He always needed Tai. Always. "My dad is here," he responded with a sniffle, "I'll be okay."

Taichi sighed, sounding almost disappointed. "Okay. Please know I'm here for you okay? I'm sure you did nothing wrong, Yamato…but I'd never leave you either. I want you to know that, man…I'll never leave your side."

What a bold statement, Yamato thought. But it made his heart a little lighter. "Thanks Tai…"

"I love you, man. Stay strong, alright? I'll talk to you soon…tomorrow."  
Yamato's hear skipped a beat. I love you. He knew it was only a friend thing…a bromance kind of thing, but he couldn't recall Tai ever saying it to him before. "B-bye Tai," was his only answer.

I love you. That phrase played over and over in Yamato's head. Even as he snuck out of his room and into the bathroom to clean his cuts. I love you. "Taichi loves me." But not in that way…

But what if…? As he laid in bed, arm bandaged up and securely covered so if his father decided to check on him in the night he wouldn't see, Yamato pondered. His thoughts of his mother and Takeru were temporarily pushed to the back of his mind.

Taichi Yagami. They first met years ago in the Digital world. Had endless adventures, fought together, laughed together. He always felt a closeness to Tai that he didn't feel with the other Digidestined. Back then, they were just children. Well, younger children. Togetherness, love…those concepts didn't mean much to him at the time. But now he wondered. He always figured he'd grow up, get a girlfriend at some point, get married, have kids. All the things you were supposed to do. He never stopped to think if he was actually attracted to girls or not. The thought never crossed his mind.

Yamato couldn't ignore the fact that since the beginning of his first year of highschool, now that he was with Taichi every day, sitting right next to him, that he found himself staring at the other boy. He couldn't put his finger on why, didn't really think about it. He just liked looking at him. He liked hearing him laugh, watching him as he spoke excitedly. He liked…everything about him. Their friendship had started in the Digital world and grown in their world. Was there room for it to grow further?

For a split second, Yamato allowed himself to imagine. Himself, with Taichi. He felt his cheeks grow rosy and the pain he felt in his arm seemed to fade away momentarily. It was such a pleasant, happy thought.

"No." Yamato turned over, hissing at the sting his cuts gave him in protest as he moved. He had to rearrange himself so he wasn't laying on his wounded arm. "No no no…" He didn't mean it like that. No way. I can't think like this. Tai and I are just friends…just friends.

Just friends. Never again would Yamato think of that phrase without a hint of sadness.


End file.
